


Mandatory Lockdown Procedure

by fullmetal_historian



Category: Ghostbusters (1984-1989; 2020), HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life, SCP - Containment Breach
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Graphic Descriptions where possible, M/M, Multi, Multiple Crossovers, Other, Will add tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27464284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetal_historian/pseuds/fullmetal_historian
Summary: When Gordon wakes up on Monday, after a long weekend of preparing for the Fourth of July, he is satisfied with the work he’s got cut out for him. You can only set up and mess with your new barbeque so many times without thinking of work, and in Gordon’s line of work, it’s almost necessary for him to constantly be thinking of it. Especially with the addition of the new Secure Research Facility Complex to the Black Mesa facilities, there are gonna be a lot more people wanting to talk to him.But after visiting SRFC for an introduction, both Black Mesa and SRFC go down; a containment breach of catastrophic proportions. After nearly all faculty have been wiped out, Gordon, armed with a crowbar and his own brain, must find a way out of SRFC and back to the Black Mesa complex in one piece without either being killed by incoming MTF, Black Mesa guards, or worse, the unknown beings that live within SRFC.Or, Gordon and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.[AU where Black Mesa and SCP work together, and the Resonance Cascade never happens.]
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman, Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Gordon Freeman/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 41





	1. Encounter 173

When Gordon wakes up on Monday, after a long weekend of preparing for the Fourth of July, he is satisfied with the work he’s got cut out for him. You can only set up and mess with your new barbeque so many times without thinking of work, and in Gordon’s line of work, it’s almost necessary for him to constantly be thinking of it. With Leanne and Joshua still in bed, and in no shape to be waking up, Gordon simply dons his usual scientist garb (checking himself for dress shirt, tie, slacks, belt, shoes) and gathers himself to face the day.

It’s nearly 5AM where Gordon is; the sun has barely touched the sky, making it a dusty blue outside his window, the moon and sun both too shy to awaken yet. It’s foggy and damp out in the morning, and he can tell it’s going to be a crappy walk to his car. He has to account for the traffic times, listing off in his head the things he had already planned for the day while stuffing whatever available food was in his fridge. He reminds himself to also run to the grocery store on the way home; Joshua is a growing boy, and his wife, Leanne, is busy taking care of him nearly every moment she is conscious. She wouldn’t have time tonight to get things, so he assumed it would be a TV-dinner and Netflix sort of night for the two.

He’s shoveling a slightly-bruised apple into his lunchbox, a large blue one from his MIT years, before he looks up, hearing a rustling in his home. It’s just Leanne, in her pj's, standing in the hallway. Her long, brown hair is an absolute catastrophe, and her tank top and Gordon’s baggy pants on her really complete the look of ‘Gordon Freeman stop making so much noise’; her expression, however, neglects that feeling, as she’s smiling deeply at him despite the bags under her eyes and the obvious exhaustion written deep within the fiber of her being. Gordon simply grins in return, as seeing the love of his life before work is a sight he rarely sees.

The scientist approaches his wife, feeling his heart swell in a Grinch-style manner as his hands immediately go to her sides, and pull her up into a puppy hug. She smiles and chortles, giving a pat on the back as she pulls back, pecks his lips, and sets her head against him for a sec.

There is a comfortable silence between them, before Gordon gives a kiss in reply, and scoots her off in the direction of the bedroom. She nods, and they whisper near-silent goodbyes to each other as they part ways. Turning on a heel, Gordon retrieves his array of items for the day, double checks, and then leaves his home, locking the door behind him. He takes a moment to appreciate the stained glass design on the top; Leanne was the artist-type and asked one of her friends to custom fit a project to their door. He still needed to ask Leanne what her next home DIY was to be.

He gets into his car, a beat-up blue Chrysler 200, and starts his way to work.

``

* * *

``And somehow, like almost every other day it seemed, Gordon Freeman was late to work.

Somewhere between shovelling his face full of drive-thru breakfast burritos and the interstate system, Gordon Freeman arrives to work nearly 20 minutes after his scheduled time. Given, they had some free time and leeway before they were _truly_ late, but Gordon was punctual and important to the company, and people expected him to be there at a certain time.

``

Gordon’s current objective for the day was to get a whole list of things done, but the most important of these things were going to the new Secure Research Facility Complex that was built adjacent to the Science Labs. Gordon was supposed to be introduced to some of the faculty, as there was apparently a research group there focusing on a subject that would ‘highly interest a man in his line of research’. Hand-picked from a recommendation from his dear friend Kleiner.

When Gordon rushed into the building’s main stations, he could hear some soldiers bickering towards him; he could care less what they could say. He is stuffed into a cart with other Black Mesa employees, Gordon takes a corner seat and finishes his morning coffee, taking the empty paper cup and stuffing it deep within a pocket of his lunchbox. The other scientists and personnel look on with a distaste for Gordon, something he has learned to become accustomed with. He ignores this, and as the train slowly empties, more personnel come and go.

He reaches his stop; the last stop on his line for another 10 minutes, and gets onto the platform. Greeted by a guard, and allowed entrance after showing his ID, Gordon hurries himself into the labs.

“Gordon! What was the hold up today?” comes familiar, tired voices, “I can’t believe you today, come on! Get a move on, we have things to do today!”

Gordon chuckles nervously. “Sorry, sorry! I know, I know! I’ll be quick, just gotta shove stuff away!”

He moves past the entrance desk, and all the scientists and the single guard gathered replace their complaints with sigh-filled ‘goodmorning’s. Gordon makes a move for it, passing by others and giving small and hurried greetings. It takes him mere moments to get into the scientists facilities, to his designated locker, and beginning to fiddle with the lock on it. There were only one or two scientists in the room; the rest had gone to handle their work for the day, only making Gordon feel worse about the 20 minute hold up.

The only thing that could possibly make Gordon feel any worse, however, is the fact that he nearly shits himself at the sound of a “ **GOODMORNIN’, GORDON!”** coming up from behind him, which is exactly what happens to the poor man. Gordon jumps, the sound of his body clanging against the locker as he yelps and looks back in fear.

It’s just Barney, his old friend, who currently has his hands up and has that same, crooked smile on his face, eyebrows laced in worry for what he’s done. He chuckles and pulls Gordon away from the locker, and dusts his shoulder off.

“Jesus, Barney. Can you _not_ sneak up on me like that?”

“Why? Piss yourself a little hearing my illustrious voice?”

Barney laughs lightheartedly, and Gordon can’t help but snort a little as he shoves Barney back. He gets his locker opened, and Barney takes a seat on the locker room bench next to him, putting his elbows on his knees.

“Sorry about scaring you, though. When I heard you were runnin’ late again, I asked a friend to swap posts with me so I could make sure I saw ya today. Can’t have you calling out all the time anymore, huh?”

Gordon rolls his eyes as he tosses his lunch bag and personal belongings in the locker.

“It was _one_ week, Barney. One week.” Gordon puts up one finger for comedic emphasis, “And it’s just the traffic in town. It gets so congested over by the McDonalds, I just can’t seem to-”

“Breakfast burritos from McDonalds, Gordon? I thought you were better than that. At least tell me you got sauce to put on it.”

The other proceeds to ignore Barney, and shakes his head, closing his locker.

“Thanks for checking on me, man, but I gotta get to the labs. That new complex apparently has a whole line of people who need to talk to me and Dr. Kleiner today.”

“Oh, I’ve heard, trust me. You guys never get _any_ spotlight in Black Mesa, and now there is a whole crew of people in the new lab wanting to see you guys like celebrities? It isn’t something that usually happens here, and not something that happens to guys like you.”

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but go fuck yourself, love you too man, I gotta go.”

Gordon grins as he walks past Barney, who stifles a laugh and stands, presumably to head back to his shift.

“And call me after work tonight! I still owe ya a beer!”

Gordon simply lifts a middle finger to his friend as he leaves, trying not to beam as they go separate ways.

It is after this that Gordon catches up to the office of Kleiner, where the door is closed. Gordon checks his watch again -- he has to be inside, as Dr. Kleiner was almost always punctual at the labs.

“Dr. Kleiner?” Gordon calls out.

“Oh! Oh, oh, just a moment!” There are the sounds of fumbling in between his words, “Yes, come in!”

Gordon enters, peeking his eyes into the messy office; Dr. Kleiner is busy gathering papers, a clipboard and folder on his desk. The room is wall-to-wall with bookshelves, filled to the brim with Dr. Kleiner’s research, papers, paperwork, and records. Anything that could have been even remotely important to Kleiner, he kept in his office. The vent that Gordon frequents is left open, the cover laying on the floor near his desk, probably for safe access. When Gordon steps in fully, standing straight as he walks up to the desk, and leans slightly to overlook.

“... Dr. Kleiner?”

The old man jumps. “Yes! Yes, oh, I’m terribly sorry, Gordon. I was getting the papers you’d need for today ready and all the other stuff we had you drop off yesterday.”

Dr. Kleiner begins handing stacks to Gordon, clipboards and folders and a binder full of things, and then one paper after the other into his arms. Gordon, being used to these sorts of interactions with his ex-professor, simply stands and lightly smiles, waiting for the daily pile-up to be over.

“--.. Oh, and there is also this, and the paperwork from last night that you need to revisit, I think you missed a date or something. And then there’s the requests from the staff at Sector D who needed parts 32C and 32D from one of your papers from last week. Get that into them by tomorrow, okay?”

Gordon nods along, half-listening as he zones out for the activity. Once over, and Kleiner has stopped bombarding him, Gordon’s pile of papers is nearly to his shoulder. Dr. Kleiner takes the moment of silence to look at him, before going slightly pale.

“OH! Gordon, I’m terribly sorry, that’s a bit much for today, isn’t it?” Dr. Kleiner rounds around his desk and starts looking through the piles, and Gordon simply stands and waits, knowing the cycle Dr. Kleiner’s brain goes through, “Let me take that back, and y’know what? This can wait.- That too. You need to focus on the labs, and these paperwork stacks I can forward to Rebecca to double check for you.-”

The intercom system turns on, and both Gordon and Dr. Kleiner look up towards the speaker in Kleiner’s office to listen.

> **“DOCTOR.** **GORDON. FREEMAN. REQUESTED AT. SRFC. CONFERENCE. ROOMS.”**

At the sound of this, Dr. Kleiner nearly has an outburst, grabbing almost everything from Gordon except the bottom binder and clipboard.

“Just take that! I can handle all the other things, and I have a meeting and such to go to almost immediately! You get over to SRFC and I’ll meet you over there around lunch!” Dr. Kleiner says, dumping all the papers onto his desk, and rendering his previous organizing of the desk completely useless. He then quickly turns Gordon around, and pushes his shoulders, escorting Gordon out.

“Woah, woah, wait, am I supposed to go _without you?”_

“Well, of course, Gordon, I’m only to supervise! You shouldn’t need me to hold your hand meeting people. I’ll see you later!”

And with that answer, Kleiner shuts the door behind Gordon, and Gordon is left standing in the empty hall with a binder and a clipboard, the papers on the clipboard being to take notes on and some other paperwork that might be needed. Overwhelmed by the crazy amount of events within an hour at work, Gordon lets out a deep sigh, and begins to walk towards the entrance of where he came.``

* * *

Gordon takes the transit to the building over; walking would be plausible, but he’d have to physically leave Black Mesa’s building (which was an adventure in itself, the place was the size of a shopping mall) to walk to SRFC, and then find where he needed to go from the lobby. Transit just felt easier to Gordon; just following the colored stripes added to the transit lines was a way for him to autopilot. Plus, the rides were always quiet, as scientists and guards alike kept respectful inside voices when they spoke to each other. Gordon boarded alone, and rode next to some scientists, but otherwise stayed inside his own head in thought.

He has to hand it to Black Mesa; they know how to build stuff, and they know how to buy stuff. Having recently acquired the authorization to work with SCP, they had built a rather large and industrious complex next to the labs to house any test subjects, anomalies, or other outlying things in case they would pose a threat to Black Mesa. And with the many things Gordon had seen in his time at working there already, the help from SCP was well needed, despite himself not entirely knowing what that entailed.

Researchers from Black Mesa would be hired and transferred to SRFC to study the anomalies and subjects that would result from testing at Black Mesa; a way to keep clear and consistent notes on even the results of certain tests. Things that he knows perhaps protestors or legislation would want to know Black Mesa was doing. Plus, SCP would probably give them access to better equipment and work areas, making it safer for the science teams. All of these things made Gordon feel a lot more comfortable going to work. Of course, there would always be risks, but knowing there was a large net to make sure no one would be hurt or injured seriously, _and_ that science was still forwarded, made all the difference.

When Gordon arrives at SRFC, he can already feel the modern architecture coming into play; it was leagues above the layouts at the labs. Fresh paint, tile flooring, larger LCD screens, and probably a better intercom system, too. Even the front desk was a much more modern and sleek design, circular in shape with a flat, marble-textured counter and fake plants to boot.

Gordon approaches the desk, arms full of papers, and the receptionist looks up at him. She’s got red glasses down lowered on the bridge of her nose, with curly red hair, who’s chewing gum and has an obvious magazine open to the left of her. He clears his throat, and sets his papers down gently on the counter, before smiling at her.

“Hi there, Gordon Freeman. Can you point me in the direction of-”

“SCP Passport or Black Mesa ID, please.”

“Huh?”

Gordon mentally stumbles back, and looks at the woman; her flat voice didn’t really help his feelings, either.

“I said, SCP Passport or Black Mesa ID, please.”

“Oh, no, I don’t have the ID with me, I just need to be told where-”

“You came from Black Mesa, didn’t ya?”

“... Yes, and I’m Gordon Freeman, I’m late for a-”

“One moment please.”

Exasperated, Gordon does wait, looking at the woman with honesty in his eyes as she types furiously on her keyboard, eyes flickering between him and the screen a few times, before the phone to her right rings. She immediately discontinues her computer work, and picks up the phone.

“SCP Secure Research Facility Complex, what do you need?... Oh, hey honey. Yes, I’ll be home for dinner tonight. I get out at 6... Can you go ahead and tell Peter that we can’t do poker tonight? Thanks. Bye bye.”

If at this point, Gordon wasn’t already panicked and impatient, he was now.

“... Now what’s your name again?”

“Gordon. Freeman.” He says, with a pained smile and through his teeth.

“... Gordon Freeman.. Middle name?”

“There’s only one Gordon Freeman in the entirety of-”

“... Can you tell me what your role is at Black Mesa?”

Gordon huffs. “Level 3 Research Associate Scientist, born in Seattle, Washington, I went to MIT, look, I have to get to the meeting soon or I’ll be in hu-”

There is a large flittering machine sound from under the desk, and the woman leans down in her office chair, pulling a sheet of plastic out. She snaps it, and then slides it over to him.

“Sounds like you’ll be here a lot going forward. The name is Ms. Melnitz, you can call me Janine. Now get going.” She says to him, her tone as flat as it was bored, “Take the hall to the left, it has the orange stripes on the top and bottoms of the walls. It should lead ya to the conference rooms and whatnot.”

Gordon takes no time to grab this plastic passport, shove it into his pocket, and then hurry down the halls. The halls were just like at Black Mesa, but instead of there being the lines that would be on the middle of the wall, Janine was right -- there were orange lines on the walls of (what appeared to be) the offices and facilities. After a few minutes of being completely turned around, Gordon eventually finds himself at the conference room halls, and glancing at the sheets on the walls, finds the room he needed to be in. **‘Meeting with: Dr. Isaac Kleiner, Dr. Gordon Freeman, Dr. George Menard. 7:25AM.”** `  
` ``

* * *

``

The meeting takes nearly four hours. Going over regulations of the SRFC and how Gordon was to be involved, as well as the main officials and doctors meeting him and, later, Dr. Kleiner. Those doctors, Gears, Harp, and Menard, would be in constant contact with Kleiner and Gordon, as well as anyone else in Black Mesa who would need to help at SRFC. Gordon wanted to doze off through some big parts of it, as it was a lot of official hoohah that he had no interest in, or would he be involved in. A lot of the meeting was for Dr. Kleiner, and Gordon was painfully aware of it. During nearly the entire time he was at Black Mesa, Gordon was always in the shadow of Dr. Kleiner, by his side as a right hand man or just an entity waiting to be commanded. Not that Gordon minded, nor was it the fault of Dr. Kleiner. It only peeved Gordon when they treated him _as_ an assistant, since even Dr. Kleiner himself had told Gordon to his face they were nearly intellectual equals, and that Dr. Kleiner had his full confidence and trust in Gordon. Just because Gordon was younger and more casual than the other older scientists did not mean he was stupid. `  
`

But, alas. Gordon listened through the meeting, and after the mentally exhausting time it was, Gordon was allowed to exit a little early and meet some of the staff, as well as try to get an early lunch. Through a little bit of adventure through the spaghetti junction the offices were, Gordon did eventually find the lunch hall. It was almost noon, but thankfully, Dr. Kleiner had grabbed Gordon’s lunchbox from his locker before leaving and had brought it along. Gordon, with his happy food box in tow, along with his paperwork, looked around the mess hall.`  
`

It wasn’t too full yet; there were scientists littered about the round tables, mostly younger ones who were obviously new recruits from local universities, and no real guards standing around. There were a few open rows of food court vendors with meals for anyone who left their lunches at home. It was mostly the standards: an Asian place, a pizza place, an organic place, and some straggling vending machines. There was also a peculiar looking vending machine with lots of paper signs on it, but nothing that Gordon could read from where he was deciding to sit.`  
`

Which, in mention, was an empty table with four seats surrounding it. He sets down his lunch bag, and sits down, rolling up his orange sweater sleeves. Getting comfy, Gordon finally unzips and unearths his lunch for the day, sighing heavily as he is finally given a moment of uninterrupted silence for the day. It never lasted long, but Gordon relished in these moments. His lunch, thrown together from previous night’s dinner that Leanne packed so kindly for him, was her famous southern chicken noodle soup, a ham sandwich, and his bruised apple that he had haphazardly shoved in on his way out of the house. His drink of choice for this meal was always Mountain Berry Blast powerade.`  
`

He gets up, tosses his sandwich and soup in the nearest Government-funded microwave, and then returns to his seat. He goes for the sandwich first, getting a few bites in to clear his palette of the burrito and shitty office coffee he had had in the morning, before taking a good scan. Dr. Kleiner wasn’t out yet, so he just continued by taking a bite of the apple, cringing a little at the bruised bit, and then abandoning it for the soup. The soup always made him feel way better, especially since his wife made it from scratch, and after a long ass meeting like that, Gordon felt he deserved the hearty soup more than any other person in that building right now.`  
`

Gordon takes his spoon, and lifts the soup up to start eating; as he does so, the power begins to flicker, and all the voices in the lunch court die down.`  
`

The power suddenly shuts off, and the emergency power comes on, before a loud siren blows through the entire room. Gordon, once again, nearly shits himself and bumps his knees on the table, crying out as his warm soup spills into his lap, noodles and chicken haphazardly lining his pants. He curses up a storm, getting up and taking napkins off the table to clean himself off as he looks up, and listens in.`  
`

> **“SCP CONTAINMENT BREACH; CLASS 4 CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES ARE NOW IN EFFECT FOR SCP-173. ALL PERSONNEL ARE TO REMAIN IN SAFE ROOMS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. IF IN CONTACT WITH SCP-173, PLEASE HOLD EYE CONTACT UNTIL IN A SEPARATE ROOM. IF NO SAFE ROOMS ARE AVAILABLE, PLEASE EVACUATE TO THE NEAREST EMERGENCY EXIT. THANK YOU.”**

At that moment, Gordon watches all hell break loose in the court. Lab techs and scientists begin to get up from their seats, all looking to the nearest doors and exits to get out, scrambling without their lunches in tow. He can hear the talk in the swarm of concerned voices.`  
`

“ _173? Isn’t that the Euclid that we had kept in tight control?_ ”

“ _173 is the deadly one, why is that in the LCZ?_ ”

“ _That shouldn’t be right, 173 wasn’t in the experiments or research lists for today!_ ”

“ _Day one, and we already have an issue with containment?!_ ” `  
`

Gordon doesn’t really understand the horror of the situation, until once he gets himself clean off, there is a round of screams from behind. He turns around near his table, and he sees whatever the hell they were talking about; a giant, 6-foot tall sculpture with stains trailing behind it appears in the room, and as Gordon tries to keep eye contact with the thing, he watches as it warps from one personnel, to the next.`  
`

He feels his heart sink to the bottom of his feet. There’s no fucking way this thing already got out -- it’s day one of being on-sight. Had they not had this already figured out? He thought SCP was really good at their jobs. He begins to walk backwards, feeling behind him as he steps back, watching scientist after scientist get their neck brutally snapped and blood rushing on surfaces from injuries. Screams echo through the court like it is a chamber, and as Gordon gets to the door, he feels someone grab his wrist. He glances back slightly, to see a younger scientist pulling him into the hall.`  
`

“Come on, you gotta get out!” The scientist says, pulling him into one of the empty hallways and shutting the metal doors of the food court. The scientist then hits the lock button, types in a code, and then covers his ears, as he starts motioning for Gordon to follow him. The scientist is pale, and looks scared as all hell.`  
`

“Wh.. Wait, but what about all the scientists in there!” Gordon asked grievously, feeling his heart race as the two shuffle down the hall.`  
`

“I- I.. we can’t go save them, it’s already way too late. You’re lucky you got out alive, uh-”`  
`

“Gordon. Gordon Freeman.”`  
`

The scientist nods, and they enter an office that had a lack of windows, unlike the other rooms. When they do, the scientist repeats the process of shutting the door, locking it, entering a code, and then leaning against the door, sighing out deeply. His breath was shaky and it seemed like the guy was practically vibrating. Having been shaken himself, Gordon gets a grapple on himself and his stomach, which is beginning to get nauseous at the stress of thoughts going through his head.`  
`

“Where the hell is that thing gonna go?”`  
`

“I have no idea, Mr. Freeman.. I-it just goes for whoever it feels is closest. I airlocked the door and the emergency power is on, so we should be okay, but.. Mnh.”`  
`

The scientist makes a distressed noise, before sinking down to the bottom of the door, and whimpering a little. Gordon sympathizes.`  
`

“What’s your name?”`  
`

“... Tommy.”`  
`

“Got it. Tommy: What do you think we should do?”

* * *

``

` **Item #:** SCP-173`

`**Object Class:** Euclid`

`**Special Containment Procedures:** Item SCP-173 is to be kept in a locked container at all times. When personnel must enter SCP-173's container, no fewer than 3 may enter at any time and the door is to be relocked behind them. At all times, two persons must maintain direct eye contact with SCP-173 until all personnel have vacated and relocked the container.`

`**Description:** Moved to Site-19 1993. Origin is as of yet unknown. It is constructed from concrete and rebar with traces of Krylon brand spray paint. SCP-173 is animate and extremely hostile. The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight. Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP-173. Personnel assigned to enter container are instructed to alert one another before blinking. Object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull, or by strangulation. In the event of an attack, personnel are to observe Class 4 hazardous object containment procedures.`

`Personnel report sounds of scraping stone originating from within the container when no one is present inside. This is considered normal, and any change in this behaviour should be reported to the acting HMCL supervisor on duty.`

`The reddish brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood. Origin of these materials is unknown. The enclosure must be cleaned on a bi-weekly basis.`


	2. Encounter 310

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a future note: I update sporadically due to my own personal life and my job, so I'm sorry this came so late! I have my writing friend keeping me on top of it by coming over during the week to write beside me while we discuss ideas, so I promise to do my best to stay with this until the end.
> 
> I also have some of the "canon" SCP numbers changed to the SCPs im putting into this au. Sorry, original SCP-310.
> 
> All of that being said, enjoy this weeks chapter. :3

Tommy looks at Gordon like he’s just spoken a foreign language. Puzzled, Tommy slowly evens his breathing out, and sits up more straight against the door, his knees coming up to his chest.

“... You heard the intercom, Mr. Freeman. We either need to evacuate or stay here until they contain 173.”

“And how long do you think that will take?”  
  
There is a long pause from Tommy, his brows furrowed as he thinks about this. Now that Gordon has a good look at Tommy, he starts noticing things; Tommy isn’t nearly as young as he thought before, but Tommy certainly _sounds_ younger than Gordon thought. He also seems very anxious and just.. Overall not like he would work at Black Mesa or SCP. Too mousy a person that Gordon would never have assumed Tommy even worked here, if it weren’t for the dressy outfit and lab coat.

“... I don’t know, Mr. Freeman. When I was at the old Facility, it could take anywhere between hours to a few days. It just depends on how fast they can handle something. With, nn... a situation like this, this facility is _way_ bigger than our old one, and with the power out, that means other SCP’s could have gotten out that- that we aren’t aware of.”

Gordon follows, despite Tommy’s odd speaking pattern. He figures it’s just the panic, and he just nods along, trying to keep up.

“Okay, okay… So, do you know _how_ to get us out of here?”

“The exits are by where we take the transit to Black Mesa, or, or- we go out the lobby way, but that’s a long ways away from us, Mr. Freeman!”

It’s then Gordon’s turn to pause. He bites his lower lip, puts a hand in his loose ponytail, and grumbles.

“Alright.. So we either die in this office, die out there, or we haul ass and get the hell outta here… I’m thinkin’ the latter. How about you, Tommy?”

Tommy looks at him with teary eyes, and puts a hand to his mouth, making a whine sound. He stops himself from freaking out any further, and Gordon blinks, leaning down to touch Tommy’s shoulder.

His voice becoming more hushed, Gordon starts shushing Tommy.

“Hey, hey, wait now, no panicking. We’re gonna get out of this together, okay? What’s up?”

Tommy just about whimpers. “M-my friends, Mr. Freeman; Darnold and Sunny are in here, what if they’re scared?”

Gordon can feel himself wanting to internally combust. Not only is this guy a little weird for Gordon’s tastes in comrades, but he also _has friends_ and that means there is going to be something distracting him from trying to escape. But the guy looks so helpless… Gordon could never bring himself to abandon him here.

“... Okay. Where are Darnold and Sunny?”

“U-uh.. Darnold should have been here about an hour ago, so maybe in a meeting room or-”

 _Shit,_ Gordon thinks, _The meeting rooms! Dr. Kleiner was in there with the other Doctors.. Maybe they had a special exit. I can’t worry about them now; I gotta get home._

“- or.. His office. He has his own office. Actually, he’s probably holed up there. Sunkist should be in her crate in her containment chambe-”

“Her crate in the _containment chamber?_ ” Gordon straightens, becoming a bit frustrated with this scenario, “What the fuck kind of slave thing are you keeping here, and why the fuck would we take an SCP with us?!”

“Because she’s my _dog,_ not a monster _!_ ” Tommy snaps at Gordon, “I don’t want her alone in her crate all day while this happens! What if something gobbles her up? A-and she’ll be in there by herself too, and wouldn’t come home with me, and.”

The other scientist begins to tear up and panic again, and Gordon has to completely wipe his brain as he gives Tommy pats and a quick, tight squeezing hug. 

“Hey, hey, hey, wait, no no no, no crying, come on, it’s fine, we’ll get your dog, we’ll get Sunkist, don’t worry about it, Tommy.”

* * *

With a plan in their minds, Tommy and Gordon get themselves ready to exit in Tommy’s office. Tommy, thankfully ready for scenarios like this, kept a few guns at his office as well as a few SCP files on him. Gordon is also relieved to hear that he’s met the right guy, because Tommy has a level 5 clearance, which Gordon wasn’t even aware of. Some light poking on the subject got Gordon the information that Tommy’s father ran pretty high up in Black Mesa, and as a result, was able to squirrel Tommy easily into a higher position. It was entirely deserved, too; Gordon found out that Tommy was extremely good at memorizing information about things he was interested in, and thankfully, SCP’s were one of Tommy’s life’s biggest hyperfocuses. The guy talked for nearly 30 minutes about the layout of the building and everything he knew Gordon would need to know, with barely any breaths in between.

The only thing that upset Gordon throughout the entire process was learning that, if Tommy was correct and proper evacuation protocol was underway, that meant that the hanging trains where Gordon came from would be down. He still felt it was their best shot at getting back to Black Mesa, and Tommy had apparently known that the doors between the cafeteria and the main entrance would be locked almost immediately as to ensure that no SCP’s exited the facility through the front door. It made sense, but at the same time, Gordon felt like maybe they should have better protocols in use for things like this.

Especially with something as.. eerie, as whatever the hell 173 was.

Tommy didn’t have faith in the current containment procedures, either. He felt they were either too strict, too convoluted, or too easy to breach. He had given Gordon the run down on a few SCP’s he had come in contact with previously that were known to get out, and nearly everyone who had worked at the Foundation knew the protocol for escaping them. 173 was one you stared at until you were out of the room, if no one else was there. He had heard about 049 and how if you find him, running is the best option. 096 was sensitive about his looks, and would kill you if you looked at his face, even by accident. He knew of 939, which were essentially mimics, and would need to be avoided at all costs. Otherwise, Tommy assured Gordon that they were in the offices, and that the Light and Heavy containment Zones were deeper in the facility, and when they would add Darnold to their group, Darnold had an almost picture perfect memory of the many exits of the building.

The only other part of this event making the day feel so unreal to him was the lack of people in the offices; Tommy had also let him know that people didn’t usually start as early as he and Gordon did, and the lunch period that Gordon had was when workers would start to come in, as most were there until night time. There were maybe half the usual scientists in the building, meaning when everyone evacuated their offices and got away from 173, almost all of them _did_ have time _,_ except for the ones who died in the cafeteria, Gordon, and Tommy, and anyone else they could find. Anyone who was still stuck in the building either had to escape, or wait until the containment was secure.

With loaded guns and their panic attacks both calmed, Gordon agreed that he would help Tommy get to Sunkist and Darnold as best he could. Tommy lifted the security in his office, and the pair exited, taking a quick one-two look down the corridor to make sure the hallway was still closed off from 173. It was, and with nearly no one there, Gordon followed behind Tommy closely as they took to the right. He was to be the eyes behind Tommy while they went deeper in to retrieve Tommy’s friend and his dog.

Within a few minutes of walking, and Tommy getting them through various hallways filled with a thick, terrifying silence, Gordon felt it safe to quietly keep talking to Tommy. It was to calm their nerves; at nearly any movement of a molecule, the two were jumpy.

“So, your dog, Sunkist.. Sorry for calling her bad names earlier. I’ve never worked with anything like this before.. I’m from Black Mesa.”

Tommy turns around, brows furrowed momentarily, but the expression softens. “... I-it’s okay. I worded it poorly. But she _is_ just a dog, so please don’t worry.”

“I do have to ask, though.. If she’s just a dog, why is she being contained here?”

Tommy hesitates for a minute. They arrive at a harshly locked door, and Tommy inputs a password into the keypad beside it, letting them enter the next set of offices.

“... She’s immortal.”

“... I’m sorry?”

“She’s immortal.”

The MIT graduate feels his brain stop momentarily at such a concept, but his body keeps walking and he continues talking. It takes him a minute to process, and as Tommy looks around, finding the offices dark and void of life, a cubic room of desks with people’s office decorations. They felt so empty without anyone there, and the horrific feeling that loomed with the idea that life in this room had all abruptly stopped when the Breach came in... it shakes Gordon. 

“Your dog is.. Immortal. That’s.. Pretty neat, actually.” Gordon tries to say things lightly, smiling a little as he tries to power through whatever stress hell this was. “Do you guys know why she’s like that, or did she just…?”

“She came like that when the Foundation found her. I’m just.. Incredibly well-tuned to SCP’s and their feelings, and with my Dad being a higher up, they just kinda… let me and Darnold take care of her.” Tommy explains, “She means a lot to me, and I sometimes take her home after work. I wanted to bring her with me. Who knows how long this breach will be?”

Gordon nods. “No kidding.. I want to get home to my wife and son. This shit feels like a nightmare.”

“It is.” Tommy says flatly, and the conversation ends there, Gordon feeling like somebody threw needles into the back of his neck and shoulders. It throws him for a loop, the sudden change in Tommy’s voice, but he tries not to listen to his guts telling him that everything in this building was out to get him.

He could trust Tommy. Even if the guy was seemingly blunt to a fault.

Before they could continue with anything, the sound of the intercom’s crackle began to flicker. With this, the sound of a quiet ‘hello?’ made Tommy perk up and visibly almost glow.

“Darnold! Darnold, why are you… in the Surveillance Room?” Tommy asks the intercom, and there’s an audible bit of movement.

“Safest place I could find. Listen, I’ve got Sunkist here with me. If you guys can get here in one piece, I can try contacting the guards and finding a way to get us out of here, any means. Who’s with you?”

Gordon takes a survey around the room, blinking at the realization that Darnold could, apparently, see the two of them. He finds a few cameras stashed away in the upper corners of the ceiling, and one round-appearing one in the middle. This place, for already having a breach, seemed like it would be so secure..

“His name is Dr. Freeman, he’s from Black Mesa.” Tommy explains, “I found him in the cafeteria with 173. We can trust him!”

“.. If you say so, Tommy. You’ve never been wrong about these kinds of things, so don’t start now. Make it to the survey room and let’s get out of here, shall we?”

There is a bark on the intercom before it goes out, and Tommy looks pleased, looking back at Gordon.

“We should be safe, as long as we get to Darnold. That room is air-tight, even more than my own office, and he’s already got Sunkist.”

Gordon gives him the flicker of a smile. “That’s the best fucking news I’ve heard today. Let’s get the hell outta here.”

* * *

Trusting in Tommy’s advice and his friend on the intercom, the two headed out of the void office and back into the spaghetti of halls. Tommy hesitated only once, twice, before he stopped at a large set of retractable metal doors. There is a dim light buzzing above them, and yellow hazard stripes around it; Tommy smiles nervously.

Gordon raises a brow, and gestures to the door.

“... So, _why_ is the door dangerous?”

“Well, Mr. Freeman, it’s a precautionary door for us to use in case of SCP’s chasing us. There’s an electric barrier in the middle, and it hardly turns on… If there is emergency power, it _might_ flicker on, but… the. The chance of that happening is very rare.”

“Wasn’t the chance of _today_ happening ‘very rare’? I don’t have much faith in that statement at the moment. Couldn’t we just go another way?”

At Gordon’s statement, Tommy’s mouth flattens a bit, and he does not answer. He just types in his passcode to the door, and it opens, the door revealing the hall described to Gordon. And by described, it is just a simple hallway, concrete walls on each side, with a hazard area in the middle. There is a metal divot in between, with mechanical contraptions tucked away inside, most likely the electric barrier that Tommy was talking about.

He takes a deep breath.

“And this thing isn’t supposed to shock me, right?”

“Theoretically, yeah!” Tommy reassures him, before gesturing, “Why don’t you go first, just to prove me right?”

Gordon scrunches his eyebrows, but if it’s between risking it at an electric door and (maybe) getting his neck snapped by that stupid ugly shit-blood statue, then Gordon will take his chances with the door. He takes a step in front of the scientist, and inhales deeply.

“Do I just.. Walk over it, or run over it?”

“Run over it, just for safety.”

The Black Mesa employee nods, and takes a quick eyeball over it, before squeezing his eyes shut, giving an internal ‘fuck it’, and beginning his run. He puts all of his college brain cells back at work, the inner track team feeling that never really left him swings into full gear as he just books it across this electric hole. Once he feels the two tap taps of his shoes on the metal, and then concrete and tile again, he stops, turning on his heel to open his eyes and look back at Tommy.

He feels at himself, smiling as he looks back at Tommy.

“Yo, Tommy, I made it! You were right, this thing IS safe to cr-”

Gordon doesn’t get to finish his sentence, as the building begins to lightly shake and rattle. When it does, the tremor begins to resemble a low-magnitude earthquake, and the two struggle to gain their balance. There is a cried-out ‘Mr.Freeman, be careful!’ from Tommy, before Gordon goes toppling over onto his side, hands moving out to catch himself. His glasses fall off his face a little, and Tommy seems to be standing straight up the whole time, though the power does fully go off in the hallway.

When the building stops shaking, and Gordon fully opens his eyes, the hallway is nearly pitch black. Tommy is standing there, his shadow behind the electric barrier where he was before, but his eyes seemed to be glowing. Gordon picks up his glasses, and then sits up. This is when Tommy decides to finally move, snapping from his seemingly-triggered catatonia to look at Gordon worriedly.

“Mr. Freeman, are you okay?” He asks, moving himself to reach out. As he does, the emergency power comes back on, and there is a loud double-beep emitted from between them before the electric barrier goes up, the loud hum of it going directly to Gordon. Tommy squeeks in alarm, stumbling back a little, as does Gordon, who simply scoots himself across the ground away from the massive wall.

“Tommy! Tommy, what do we do?” Gordon exclaims, strain in his voice.

Tommy looks nervous, and thinks visibly for a moment, before looking at Gordon with a more serious look.

“I.. I think I know another way, but it’s pretty convoluted. I can get to you and Darnold in the surveillance room, but I think you’ll have to go on without me for a bit. I can give you directions if you’d like on how to get to Darnold.”

Gordon swallows thickly. At this point, his throating feeling like someone is constantly choking him

“... Okay. As long as you’re going to be alright. Just tell me where to go, Tommy.”

“You’re going to want to keep going straight until you get to some of the Light Containment areas. There, there are really really _really_ helpless SCP’s, the kind that don’t even move for the most part. There will be directive arrows on the walls from there to guide you to the surveillance room. Just give three knocks-- it’s what me and Darnold do for each other. Any of the passcodes that are needed to pass through are some kinda combination of 0-1-5-9. You get three tries for most doors.”

Gordon nods along, and keeps mental notes of Tommy’s words.

“And your gun is still fully loaded?”

“Yes, Mr. Freeman; but I’ve never had to use it in the entire time I’ve worked here.”

“As long as you’re full up and know your way, I hope to see you again soon. Be safe out there, Tommy.” Gordon speaks, his throat feeling tight as the two pick themselves up, and head to their respective doors.

Tommy looks back, a mourning look on his face. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Freeman. Promise me? I wanted to invite you to me and Darnold’s trivia night after this.”

“Promise.”

The bow-tied scientist smiles weakly, and flashes a peace sign at Gordon; Gordon promptly mirrors it back, and looks out the door to the hallway, drawing his pistol and keeping it close to himself as he hears the air compress close the door behind him.

The eerie silence fills the dim-lit halls, and once again, Gordon Freeman finds himself alone in this brand new place. It puts his nerves on edge, but he needs to focus, needs to get home to his wife, needs to get home to _Joshua, and_ needs to survive through the breach.

Gordon takes his first steps into the abandoned halls, and takes note of all the metal frames on the doors; it is definitely a different area than the one he was just in with Tommy. What did he say this had -- Containment areas? Whatever it was, it was way more functional than pretty, a stark difference from the offices that they were just in.

The surveillance room was his inevitable goal, an air-locked room with safe people and a genuine way out planned fully. He tries to keep his mind on these things as he explores the halls, which just seem to meld into each other as he continues on. Following Tommy’s rules, he just continues straight ahead, not breaking his stride.

But when he comes to a hall where the metal door is _different,_ well. Gordon takes a moment of curiosity, double checking his surroundings, before he approaches. It is the standard metal door, with an office-like setup inbetween, and two glass windows. Through the one he is standing by, he can see into the office, and from there, he can see into the chamber. And to Gordon Freeman’s surprise, he _does_ see something that he is familiar with.

A standard, Black-Mesa-issued Hazardous Environment suit.

Just.. locked in it’s pod, like normal. Gordon’s worn them before, but very rarely. They are just to be used for when testing around hazardous materials requires a whole person to be present and couldn’t be contained. The only difference that strikes Gordon is that the suit is missing the helmet -- which, given, is a seperate piece to the suit and the suit can almost always function without it -- but seeing a suit _without_ its helmet felt so strange to Gordon. Just like everything else in this godforsaken building.

Gordon has a moment -- a very impulsive moment, at that-- and remembers that Tommy gave him the door passcodes. A combination of 0-1-5 and 9... The idea of putting it in, and possibly getting a _huge_ safety net for himself to get out of here.. It felt unfair momentarily, but then realizing that Darnold and Tommy had both been through this rodeo enough to know how to leave and the procedures to leave safely, and that his wife and son were waiting at home.. Gordon felt he deserved to have that safety net.

 _Fuck today,_ Gordon thinks to himself, as he tries the code 5-9-1-0.

And what do you know, the airlock turns off and the door slides open. Gordon blinks, momentarily stunned by the sheer amount of luck, before grinning widely and entering the room. He hits the switch near the other door, and peeks his head inside the chamber. Full HEV suit, right there, ready to be worn. Thinking nothing of it, Gordon enters the chamber, and goes to the machine, looking it over.

His hands rest on the metal sides of the pod, looking over the suit’s inner mannequin. The mechanisms, the buttons, everything.. It’s the same as it was at Black Mesa. The same size as Gordon, too...

* * *

10 minutes later, and Gordon has the suit equipped to himself, zipping the last zipper and applying the last button and metal bit, before he turns the suit on from the back bit. With this, the HEV suit powers on, saying its standard levels as it always does, informing Gordon that everything is up to speed. He mentally cheers himself, hailing himself a genius for thinking to use one during a serious breach like this.

Gordon walks from the chamber, shutting the door behind him, and exiting back out to the hall. With it being a standard HEV suit, what are the SPC people going to do? Would they even _notice_ the suit being gone while a breach of this magnitude was happening? The chaotic energies of these thoughts make Gordon snicker, feeling as though he was a teenager nabbing candy off the high school’s snack carts at the bus circle.

Through a few more hallways, Gordon finds himself looking at the walls, extra vigilant and extra focused on the arrows directing everywhere. Sure enough, near the end of this long stretch, there is a splitting path; left is yellow, and right is red. Red had the text above pointing to ‘Surveillance Room’, and that’s when Gordon knows he’s got this in the bag.

Overconfident in his ability, Gordon almost waltzes down this hall, pistol at his side and unready for use as he hums to himself. HEV suit on meant he was clear to go home to his family. His risks were reduced severely, unless it was something extreme like 173. His eyes follow the red arrow down through one, two, three doors similar to the one’s he’s been seeing.

Then, to his left, Gordon sees it; a giant, double-air-locked sliding door with a code and cameras surrounding, though the cameras warning lights are on, and they are pointed down. It probably meant that Darnold wasn’t able to watch them clearly at the moment.

Gordon knocks three times on the door, and there is a faint sound of ‘oh, Tommy, you’ve made it!’ and a light bark coming from inside the room. Gordon inputs the code (0-1-5-9 as he recalls), and the doors decompress, sliding open.

They revealed to Gordon the identity of Darnold; an older African-American man with greying sidebits, a large bowtie that matched Tommy’s, and a long, lithe frame. Behind him was a large golden retriever with a blue collar and name tag, sitting down beside him with her tail wagging violently behind her. The other seems surprised when it is Gordon, but his expression changes from joy, to surprise, to a sudden and substantial amount of horror. His dark hand comes up to cover his mouth lightly, and his brows furrowed in almost a shock-like stance.

The MIT graduate tilts his head.

“... What? Darnold, right? It’s me, Dr. Freeman, Tommy send me here. Tommy had to go the long way when the power went out, and-”

“No, no, I understand that.” Darnold speaks, hesitantly. He ushers Gordon in, shutting the door behind him with the passcode as he takes a full look at Gordon.

“Mr. Freeman, _where_ did you get that HEV suit in the SCP building? That is a Black Mesa issue.”

“Oh!” Gordon grins, “Well, while I was going through the halls, I saw this big window, and-”

Gordon isn’t able to finish that sentence, either, because before he is done with it, there is a triple knock and a passcode, and Tommy has entered the room, panting gently.

“Darnold, I made- _MR. FREEMAN?!”_ Tommy nearly cries out as he hurries in, Darnold slamming the numbers into the pad behind him as Tommy closes the space between himself and Gordon, in the not-sexy fashion. The fashion of looking him over, patting the suit, and having genuine panic in his eyes.

Gordon is taken aback by these reactions.

“What?! What, is the suit some fuckin’ special rich people suit?! A Suit That Shall Not be Named?!” Gordon nearly whines, feeling his entire sense of security melt like water to cotton candy.

“No!” Tommy shouts at him, “That’s a fucking _SCP!”_

* * *

`**ITEM #:** SCP-310  
  
**Object Class:** Thaumiel  
  
**Special Containment Procedures:** When not in use of a Foundation member, SCP-130 is to stay inside of its containment chamber at all times. Authorization is required to remove SCP-130 or to use it for containment of other SCP’s.  
  
**Description:** SCP-130 is a complete and standard HEV / Hazardous Environment Suit from the 999 Black Mesa Research Facility. It was sent to us as the suit, when worn by various members of the Research Team, would move without the operator’s approval and seemed to be completely autonomous at times. Researchers who wore this particular suit also complained of increasingly painful headaches after use. SCP-130 has been used on prisoner test subjects as well as other SCP’s to bring them back to their containment. It seems to be obedient to members of the Foundation and is otherwise in a stasis at almost all times of the day. When contained, SCP-130 acts as a normal HEV suit and does not move or interact with Foundation members.`


	3. Encounter 049 & 1595

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I'm so, so sorry this chapter is incredibly late. During the past few months, the holidays came by and were particularly hard for me. To gloss over it (and being honest), I went through an incredibly tough breakup in the days before Christmas, losing both a partner and a longtime friend of mine. I was incredibly ill throughout the entirety of Christmas, and this month is my birthday (a pretty rough holiday for me), and to add to it all, my last remaining grandparent passed away a few weeks ago. As a result, I haven't been able to nearly touch this fic as much as I would like. I promise to be more regular in updates as I can, and with this, I'm also going to be flipping between this and co-writing a GTA:V fic with my partner. As an apology for the late update, there is not one, but TWO scp encounters in this chapter: one canon, and one of my AU's. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I look forward to continuing work on this fic more regularly.
> 
> Again, I apologize greatly for the wait; thank you for being patient with me.

The party of three look at each other, frazzled beyond belief. Gordon feels like his entire body is going to fucking implode, dizzy and light and out of breath like he just ran a marathon. Tommy’s words run through his brain -- the idiot, in his hubris, hadn’t realized to maybe think that if the suit was in a containment chamber, it _was an SCP, and it could be dangerous._ He thinks of all the possibilities of what the fucking thing could be, and he’s pale in front of Tommy, like a kid who just got caught red handed. Tommy rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingers and grumbles.

“Sorry, sorry, I.. I shouldn’t have yelled,” Tommy clarifies, “But you do realize that’s an SCP, right? We don’t _have_ HEV suits in the Foundation buildings. We have different uniforms.”

He looks up at Dr. Freeman, and his face softens to an expression of remorse, a hand coming up to touch the Lambda logo on the metal chest piece.

“Mr. Freeman, I hate to say it, but I _don’t_ know the file for this one. You’re going to have to live with whatever outcome this suit has for you unless you take it off.”

Gordon looks at Tommy, before gesturing at the chest piece. Tommy removes his hand from it.

“I could just take it off! I don’t see why-”

As he starts his statement, Darnold stands beside the two men, and looks Gordon in the eyes. Gordon’s sentence stops, and he looks at Darnold, feeling as though he’s about to be punched in the face by some horrid reality.

“Unfortunately, _I_ know of the file on that suit, and you’re in a VERY bad position at the moment, Mr. Freeman.”

“What does that mean?” Gordon hesitantly groans.

“It means, that suit _doesn’t_ come off unless with brute force. It’s sentient, Mr. Freeman, and if it likes you, it won’t come off easily.”

“What the fuck do you mean it’s _sentient_?”

“It’s sentient, just what it sounds like. You’ll start to hallucinate a little bit, and it might talk out loud to you. It also will stay attached to the person it’s most affectionate for at the moment."

“Maybe if you... you keep doing stuff like that in the Foundation building, it’ll think you hate it and... it’ll leave!” Tommy pipes up, though Gordon can’t decide if it was a helpful idea or just a stab at his already-bruised ego. He internally takes the L, and sighs heavily.

“Okay, well.. It hasn’t talked to me _yet,_ other than vital signs, so I guess we’re in the clear for now. I’ll let you guys know if there’s any hallucinating going on.”

Gordon smiles and weakly chuckles, almost sadly, as Darnold and Tommy share a look of concern between each other. The tension is broken by, assumably, Sunkist, who barks at them, still sitting on the ground in the spot Darnold left her. Tommy looks to her, looks to Gordon, and then smiles.

“Well, you still haven’t met Sunkist yet. Darnold, move back."

Darnold steps back, and Tommy pats his thighs, calling the dog. She barks and stands up, immediately going for Gordon, though her head bumps into the crotch of the HEV suit, her tail wagging and she tries to sniff for his crotch. It throws Gordon off guard, and he blinks, looking down at the dog and shuffling, moving her head to try to get her to stop.

The dog whines, freaked by the lack of scent coming from the suit; the dog lifts a paw, and unfortunately, gives Gordon a Johnny Cage critical hit to the nads, causing the scientist to ‘oof’ and topple over. Tommy laughs a little, but Darnold reacts fully, going to catch Gordon before he fully goes over and helps him stay standing.

“Sunkist, be nice, girl!” Darnold scolds, “Sit!”

Sunkist sits, her collar jingling as she does so. Tommy bites his lip to not keep giggling at the ordeal, and Gordon shoots Tommy a fake-angry, moderately-annoyed expression. Gordon pats the top of Sunkist’s head, and she barks, so Gordon assumes it’s safe. He is still, however, holding onto the crotch of his suit, standing up straight very, very slowly.

The HEV suit does not protect from dickkicks.

* * *

Tommy and Darnold find an emergency supply of ammo and protective gear, arming themselves and giving any of the applicable ammo to Darnold to carry in the pockets of his lab coat, which pinned closed, as opposed to Tommy’s, which did not. Tommy preferred to keep his semi-automatic from his desk on him, but Darnold decided on a more refined, single-action revolver that was in the lockers. Tommy made a comment about him being like a cowboy, and Gordon could tell from their friendly conversations that Tommy and Darnold, were in fact, close.

Gordon kept his semi-automatic on him as well, and the three decided to continue on. Darnold knew a way to leave the building, and they could check by the elevators, but there was no way they’d be able to leave that way; unfortunately, with the doors to the entranceway locked down securely for containment of the SCP’s, they’d have to walk all the way around through the Heavy Containment Zones and through the offices. It would be a long way, and Darnold figured it was worth it, considering either the building would be marked safe before they left or they’d evacuate successfully before things got out of hand.

With Sunkist and Darnold in tow, the group heads out the East exit of the Security Room, headed to the Heavy Containment Zones. They were officially deeper within the building, near the core of the Light Containment Zone. Passing through one Security Gateway that sprayed some decontaminating gas on them, Gordon felt much safer in the group than he did earlier, meeting eye-to-eye with the first SCP ever in his life. Armed, and with friends, it was a secure place Gordon would not let go to waste.

As they carried on into the hallways, Gordon decided some light and quiet conversation would be appropriate.

“So… how’d you guys become friends?” Gordon asks politely.

He can feel Darnold’s gentle smile, and the scientist looks back slightly. “Met through work. Invited him for drinks at a bar I like, and then we ended up going to the wrong one. Decided to go to a trivia night, and have been going ever since. Friendship builds when you’re trying to win movie tickets and go through stuff like this together.”

Gordon nods along, and Tommy finally pipes in.

“Plus, we take care of Sunkist together while we are here!” Tommy nearly chirps, “And we play games with each other on weekends since Darnold and my dad helped me get a better gaming computer.”

It makes Gordon smile in return, seeing the two men look at each other and grin. There is an obviously tight bond between the two, and it makes Gordon think of himself and Barney. With that thought in mind, Gordon thinks back. Did Barney know what was going on? He wondered if the other man was worried, since he knew Gordon was heading over to these labs..

He shakes the thought. There were too many people Gordon was worried about at the moment, and he needed to continue to try to escape with Darnold and Tommy, but there was somehow no way for him to fully turn off those thoughts. The only thing that broke this downward idea was the feeling of saliva on his hand. His body jolts, and he looks down to see Sunkist drooling a little on the ground and wagging at him, having just given his hand a very wet doggy kiss.

Gordon feels himself untense just a little, and he stops to squat down and pet Sunkist for a moment, rubbing the golden fur on her head. She wags and closes her mouth, leaning into Gordon’s touch as she sits down in front of him. When he stops, she whines and holds out a paw to shake. He shakes the dogs hand, and there is a mutual respect he feels (for some reason) with the unstoppable dog. He only looks up once he hears Tommy call out for something, and start jogging towards… something. Gordon blinks, and he stands up, looking down at Sunkist for a moment.

“Dr. Coomer!” Tommy says out loud, and him and Darnold turn a corner.

He nearly winds himself when this happens, and Gordon begins to hurry behind, lagging in the scenario as Sunkist follows him loyally. When he turns the corner himself, he is met with a funny scene: Tommy hugging on a very round, very friendly looking old scientist, and Darnold is smiling and happy to see him, but not hugging whatsoever. Sunkist, at the sight of seeing the man, barks happily, and then rushes over too, moving to stand up on her hind legs to ‘hug’ into the man as well.

“Ohoh, Sunkist, down girl! Down girl! I know, I haven’t seen you in a few days!” The older scientist coos at Sunkist, and she wags and pants happily.

Gordon approaches the group, and looks at the familiar old man, feeling something stirring in his chest. The voice and looks seem.. So familiar to Gordon. The fluffy mustache, the Einstein-esq hair, the chubby body and green floral print shirt.. Is he feeling panic? Nausea? He isn’t sure, but he knows that he can feel himself growing pale with each passing second. Darnold turns to him, and then realizes he hadn’t introduced them, and he clears his throat. 

“Ah! My bad, Gordon. This is Dr. Coomer, an associate of ours and a-”

That name is what finally clicks it to Gordon -- Dr. Coomer, the former scientist at Black Mesa who had passed away years ago, is standing in the flesh right in front of Gordon Freeman, in a building full of weird phenomena. A thousand possibilities run through his mind, and the moment Dr. Coomer looks up, his old, crinkled, crystalline blue eyes meeting with Gordon’s olive ones, he feels like his world drops a bit more.

“Dr. Coomer, like. Like, Dr. Harold P. Coomer?!” Gordon sputtered. “You died like, years ago! You passed away from a heart issue, and-”

“You thought wrong, my good bitch!” Dr. Coomer gleefully replies, and Gordon is immediately taken aback.

“Wh-wh-.. What are you talking about?!” Gordon’s nearly begs, “I… I have been through some _shit_ today, okay, Sunkist is an immortal dog, I almost got my neck snapped by a walking fucking statue, and there is like 100 different things in this building that could kill me, and now you’re telling me that I am looking at Dr. _Coomer,_ the scientist luminary of Black Mesa that’s been dead for like 2 years now?!”

“Yes!” Dr. Coomer claims, gently patting Tommy to move him and Sunkist away, and he approaches Dr. Freeman.

“What is your name again?”

“Gordon. Dr. Gordon Freeman. I joined like, a few months before you passed.”

Dr. Coomer rubs at his chin, taking a deep look at Gordon. It seems to visibly lightbulb in his head, and he squints before snapping his fingers and grinning ear to ear. He immediately stands straight up, opening his arms and going for the grab. Gordon stiffens, eyes going wide as the old, short man approaches him and grapples him into a hug, squeezing tightly. Gordon wheezes.

“Ah, Gordon! It’s good to see you! I’m so sorry we had only met once or twice before, but I promise you, I’m all in good health!” Dr. Coomer chirps, and releases Gordon, who coughs and pats at his own chest gently, keeping a firm grip on his gun.

“G… Good to know,” Gordon catches his breath, still not entirely sure what the fuck is going on, but nonetheless he accepts his fate. “Are we sure this isn’t just some.. Big fucked up dream I’m having right now? Like, I’m not at home snoozing with my wife and son on the couch?”

“Unfortunately not,” Darnold offers up, “It’s as real as real can get. You’ll get adjusted to the weirdness someday. It’s a daily occurrence with the Foundation at this point.”

Tommy nods in agreement, and Dr. Coomer pats Gordon’s arms in a fatherly sort of gesture.

“Don’t worry, Gordon. We’ll be okay.” Dr. Coomer reassures Gordon, before turning to the others, “Now, I was about to be on my way to getting Bubby so we could leave, since the lockdown procedure is in effect. Would you all like to tag along with me?”

“It would make sense to.. You _are_ incredibly strong and protective, Dr. Coomer,” Darnold offers up, “We would be fools to split up from you.”

They all take a moment to look at each other, before the eyes fall to Gordon; with all the members of their ‘party’ staring at him, including Sunkist, he gulps.

“.. What, why are you guys looking at me?”

“Are you.. Are you okay with that, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asks softly, “Dr. Coomer is incredibly good at maneuvering. We would be 100% safe to leave if we were with him.”

“--But, I _do_ need to get Dr. Bubby before we leave.” Dr. Coomer interjects, “So it would only be a little bit of a detour.”

“At this point, we’re picking up people left and right.. Are we even going to get _ou_ t of here by the time we’re done with the field trip?”

“Now, Gordon, I’ll have you know, Dr. Bubby is a worthy person to pick up. He’s also my partner, so it is quite important to me that I retrieve him.”

“Not to be rude, Dr. Coomer, but how do we know Dr… Bubby? Is even still alive.”

“Because he probably will never die,” Dr. Coomer offers, shrugging his shoulders gently, “I have to get him out of his office. He’ll be fine, I just want to make sure we get to go home together.”

“And you don’t separate Coomer and Bubby!” Darnold chimes.

“You don’t separate Coomer and Bubby.” Tommy parrots.

“You don’t separate Coomer and Bubby..” Gordon sighs, nodding in agreement as Sunkist returns to his side, licking his hand.

This was the longest 3 hours at work he’s ever had.

* * *

Dr. Coomer, once they find safety in his office, explains to Gordon that he, hadn’t, in fact, died. What ended up happening with Dr. Coomer is that when the Foundation was first recruiting lab researchers from Black Mesa for early collaboration, Dr. Coomer had offered himself up for the sake of the research. With consent, Dr. Coomer had been under the Foundation’s employment after being subjected to a few experiments, and afterwards, the Foundation thought it would be best to say that Harold had passed away. Black Mesa had agreed to post this information falsely, and require Dr. Coomer to stay with the Foundation.

This also included, unfortunately, Dr. Coomer’s wife to be rendered a widow, and despite the fact that she knew the truth, Dr. Coomer’s wife had not been seen since the incident. No one knew where she was, and Dr. Coomer was okay with that, because apparently, he was in the closet at the time of marrying her and had found happiness in a successful marriage with whoever this ‘Dr. Bubby’ character was. Gordon was happy to hear that, but at the same time, it made him question the sincerity of almost 90% of things he had been spoon-fed by both Black Mesa and that Foundation meeting he was in earlier. It also made him worry for Dr. Kleiner, who was, unfortunately, probably involved in this.

Their break in the office was short, however, because they _needed_ to hurry and add Dr. Bubby to their party. They drank some water, Dr. Coomer explained the map of the building to Gordon, and they reviewed the escape plan one more time, to give Gordon peace of mind. According to Coomer, Dr. Bubby’s office was just a few doors down from his own, and contained Dr. Bubby’s apparent ‘tube’, of which he researched and worked on, along with various species of non-aggressive SCP.

The group exited Coomer’s office and walked West, three doors down. Gordon kept himself tense and ready, and despite the other’s previous attempts to comfort him, Gordon couldn’t help but be uneasy. The new place was already an absolute nightmare.

As Dr. Coomer approaches the keypad by the door, he looks to Gordon expectantly.

“Dr. Freeman, be a dear and look through the glass window beside the office door, will you? I want to make sure Dr. Bubby is in there, but these doors are such a hassle, and have longer codes than Tommy and Darnold’s areas.”

“Oh, uh.. Sure, Dr. Coomer.”

Gordon moves past Tommy and Darnold, who are standing rather close together, Sunkist sitting behind the group. He peers into the window, looking through the glass; the lab inside appeared to be empty, and he places his two hands against it to look closer and pull the hallway’s light away from his vision. The lab did, in fact, have a giant tube in the middle, with a greenish-blue light tinting the mysterious liquid inside. But…. there was no scientist. As Gordon took his hands away, turning to tell Dr. Coomer the news, he tenses and his breath hitches.

Inside the room _was_ movement, but it wasn’t anyone in a lab coat like they were familiar with; instead, there was a person inside with a large, black coat and a bird-like plague mask. Gordon feels lightheaded as he makes eye contact with the… person. They stare at each other momentarily, before it begins towards a large control panel.

“Uh... fuck, Dr. Coomer?”

“Yes, Gordon? Is he in there?” Dr. Coomer looks at him, brows furrowing in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s some kind of.. plague doctor cosplayer in there, and that’s it.”

Dr. Coomer seemingly goes pale.

“Oh… You’re sure?”

Before Gordon can get out a reply, the door opens up, and the person pushes past Dr. Coomer and the others. Tommy and Darnold both gasp, stepping back and away as Sunkist moves to stay behind them, her tail going down. It begins to approach Gordon, and raises a gloved hand in front of itself.

“... I see what ails you,” It speaks, in a low English accent, “I can feel the Pestilence within you.”

Gordon nearly trips back, feeling himself choke on his own spit as he takes steps back away from it, and feels at the wall. Tommy, in the blurry background of the scene Gordon is witnessing, cries something about Dr. Bubby being missing.

“H… Huh??”

“You are ill, my fellow doctor. It is a shame... Allow me to cure you.”

He can feel the lightheadedness coming back, the blood in his veins thrumming with panic as the plague doctor approaches him, and with a calm demeanor, grabs ahold of both his arms. The grip force of the Doctor causes the metal to clink and dent ever so slightly, and Gordon can feel a bead of sweat drop down his cheek as his eyes meet the crystalline orbs behind the mask.

Just as the doctor releases a free hand to move and try to grip at Gordon’s neck, before the gloved fingers can reach his neck, Dr. Coomer shouts Gordon’s name. In the moment that the Doctor looks back, Gordon uses the moment of its weakness to push it back and away from him, stumbling backwards and against a locked hall door as he does. The momentum successfully pushes back the plague doctor.

As Gordon feels at the back of his head, ponytail having dug into his skull from the door, he looks up just in time to see the plague doctor grabbed by the back of the neck, and thrown into the adjacent wall by Dr. Coomer, who had grown nearly six feet tall and extremely muscular, seemingly out of thin air. Dr. Coomer growls at the doctor, and proceeds to move closer to it, standing over it and pinning it to the ground.

“Mr. Freeman!” Tommy calls out into the hall, peeking his head out of the lab the doctor had originated from, “In here! We’re gonna look for Dr. Bubby while Dr. Coomer puts that back! Hurry!”

Gordon wastes no time running into the safety of the airtight lab, entering and catching his panic-stricken breath; he looks back at the scene before him, and as Dr. Coomer and the plague doctor silently struggle from the safety of the hallway, Tommy places a hand on his arm and motions for him to enter deeper into the lab.

He swallows thickly, and turns to follow Tommy, feeling at his neck in horror as the team treks on like nothing happened; despite knowing it would never come, Gordon still fruitlessly prayed that normalcy would come any faster.

* * *

**`ITEM #: ` ** ` SCP-1595 `

` `` `

**`Object Class:` ** ` Keter`

` `` `

**`Special Containment Procedures: ` ** `SCP-1595 is contained within the test subject Dr. Harold Pontiff Coomer of Black Mesa Facility 444. He has willingly accepted being the main Facility member to contain SCP-1595, and is contained within a cell during the night with a written consent form.`

 **`Description:`** `SCP-1595 is a serum that was created in gfdsfsdg, Siberia, Russia. It is unknown at the time of writing as to the purpose of its creation, however, it has been injected into 5 subjects to date, though 4 accounts have proven to be fatal. The subject to have not passed during experimentation is the current vessel for SCP-1595, a scientist from the adjacent Black Mesa Facility.`

`SCP-1595 gives the subject an increasing, nonhuman strength when: caused frustration, anger, or resentment, targeted with violence, protecting others, and when provoked. SCP-1595 will also momentarily change the subject’s appearance, adding 105% muscle fat to the body, particularly in the arms of the subject, and causes symptoms similar to IED (intermittent explosive disorder). SCP-1595 otherwise does not alter the subject in any way and, if the subject is lined up with other experiment subjects, cannot be discerned from other subjects without SCP-1595 injected.`

`In the event that SCP-1595 is to go into this berserk mode, Facility members are to follow protocol and use a gentle sedative method upon the subject to preserve them as well as SCP-1595 for further study and testing.`

**`MEMO #1595-1: ` ** `Before becoming the current host subject for the SCP-1595 injections, Dr. H.P. Coomer was previously a part of the scientific personnel at the adjacent Black Mesa Facility, and had a Level 3 clearance as a research personnel at the Foundation, having served nearly 31 years as a main researcher. In his place, there has been a memorial plaque in the main Black Mesa Research Office to commemorate the technical loss.`


End file.
